


turn your colour up

by glitteratiglue



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Heavy Petting, Pre-Canon, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: It went like this: he walked her back, they’d make out until they were panting, pressed close together. Then he’d say: “See you again soon, Miss Troi,” with that smile that made her stomach flip, and make himself scarce after a quick kiss.She wanted more.(Early in their courtship, Deanna and Will have a little fun in the Catarian Gardens).
Relationships: William Riker/Deanna Troi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 56





	turn your colour up

**Author's Note:**

> It's taken me MONTHS to finish this. I blame pandemic brain, life, etc. But it feels great to post something again.

“This is cute,” Will says, looking around at the expanse of grass and the paths that cut through it, lined with fragrant wildflowers. The sun overhead gives a hazy tinge to the horizon, as if the air is moving.

“I always loved the Catarian Gardens,” Deanna remarks. “Where do you want to sit?” She motions to the picnic basket he’s holding.

Will seems relaxed and comfortable: he’s wearing loose cotton pants and a light shirt, having already experienced first hand how punishing a Betazoid summer can be. On their first date, he’d sweated right through his Starfleet uniform and realised how inadequate it was for a tropical climate. This is their fourth date, and he’s clearly learning more about how to survive on her planet. He never tires of asking Deanna endless questions about Betazoid culture and customs. Sometimes she pretends to be wearied by his enthusiasm, but, really, she finds it impossibly charming.

In the far corner of the park, beneath a tree, a cluster of muktoks are chiming in the warm breeze.

“How about over there?” he suggests, making one of his exaggerated, expansive gestures that she’s growing used to.

“Perfect,” she replies.

Will Riker seems to approach life with unbelievable confidence and a blade-sharp focus that’s put him on the fast track to Starfleet glory. She wonders, with a shiver, if that’s the way he does everything.

There’s a lot going on in Deanna's life. She’s busy with her studies and aiming to get off this planet somehow at the end of it. But when Will strolled into that function three weeks ago, tall, handsome and exuding swathes of unearned confidence, it was hard for her to pretend she didn’t want him from the start.

Things had been hot and heavy between them on the last couple of dates; her grinding on the seam of his pants where he was hard for her, Will’s hand up her shirt, greedily cupping and squeezing her breasts. It was teenage and ridiculous and it made her wet enough to soak through her underwear.

It went like this: he walked her back, they’d make out until they were panting, pressed close together.

Then he’d say: “See you again soon, Miss Troi,” with that smile that made her stomach flip, and make himself scarce after a quick kiss. Deanna would end the night with her own hand between her thighs, shivering through an orgasm she wished he’d given her. She wanted more.

Neither of them are inexperienced, and Deanna, like most Betazoids, lacks any sense of stuffy propriety regarding sex. But empty connections have never appealed to her, as she’d told Will in no uncertain terms when they first met and he figured getting into her pants was a sure thing. Once he’d recovered from the rebuff, he’d begun to see it as a challenge. She has a hunch that he’s enjoying teasing her as much as getting to know her.

Will slips his hand into hers. Her dress flutters against her thighs as they walk over and lay the blanket out. It’s gauzy, the same blue as Will’s eyes, and short enough to make her mother throw her a knowing look on the way out the door (“ _Well, you always did have good legs, Deanna. I certainly hope he appreciates it.”)_ Though he’s made a good show of pretending like he isn’t looking, Will’s gaze keeps noticeably flickering downwards. In fact, he’s hardly taken his eyes off her since they met up at the gate of the gardens.

The picnic he procured turns out to be delicious. Will is easier to talk to than anyone she’s ever met, Deanna thinks as they eat. In talk of Starfleet, her studies and all the places newly arrived Will has yet to visit on Betazed, more than two hours pass.

Maybe it’s why she feels relaxed enough to say:

“My father used to bring me here, you know. “I don’t remember much, of course. I was so young.” She hesitates, but Will’s blue eyes are open, unexpectant. He isn’t going to interject. “He’d pick wildflowers for me; as many as I wanted. He taught me how to make daisy chains and then made the rest of them for me when I got bored after the first two or so.”

“You must really miss him,” Will observes, and the lack of pity in his voice surprises her. She isn’t used to that. He hesitates, then adds: “I was only two when my mom died. I never knew her, but I missed her all the time.” He looks back at her and smiles. “So I know a little bit about what it’s like.”

He’s been evasive about family thus far, and she hasn’t wanted to pry. There’s the echo of an old pain that isn’t hers, and she realises it’s him. Will’s mind is too open to her; much more than it should be for someone she’s just met. It’s obvious that this isn’t something he would tell just anyone.

“I’m sorry,” Deanna says softly.

Will doesn’t visibly react. He pokes the picnic basket and plates to the side with his foot and pats the blanket beside him. Before she can think, he’s hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her down to lie next to him. She’s close enough to feel the warmth he’s radiating, to smell the soap on his skin, mixed with his heady, human scent. Out of nowhere, want seizes her, and she sees it in his eyes, too.

“Mm, this _is_ a very nice dress, Miss Troi,” he murmurs, and then his lips are on hers, hot and seeking. Deanna sighs into his mouth, her arms wrapping around him of their own accord as he presses closer to her.

He’s thinking he could kiss her for hours, and it’s such a hopeful and innocent thought that it makes her laugh right against his lips.

“Something funny?” Will asks. He’s breathing heavily. “Oh, it’s me thinking too loud again, isn’t it?” He drops his voice. But it’s true. I’d kiss you all day, Deanna. If you’d let me.”

With that, he goes back to it, until she’s making small sounds against his mouth. Her thigh is hitched over his hip and one of his hands is slipping beneath the chiffon folds of her dress.

They break apart, his hand still resting high on her thigh. She can sense him calculating. They’re hidden from view by the considerable height of the muktoks, with the tree on the other side.

“Wondering what you can get away with, lieutenant?” Deanna says, light, though her chest is heaving, her skin tingling everywhere he’s touched it.

“Who said I had anything in mind?” is Will’s reply. His grin is impish.

“Remember, this is a telepathic planet. If anyone comes too close I can tell them in no uncertain terms to disappear.”

“Such a civilised race, the Betazoids,” he says. He props himself up on an elbow and presses her back to the blanket with a press of fingers to her collarbone. “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, Deanna.”

She turns an amused look on him. “I know that, Will. I mean, I really know.”

“I think you have me at a bit of a disadvantage here,” he says, not looking bothered in the slightest about it.

“Does that bother you?”

“It’s kind of…sexy,” he says, reaching for the sheer fabric, starting to push it up her thighs. “That you can sense how I’m feeling.”

“So, where did you want to touch me?” Deanna asks, her teeth meeting her lip. She reaches for his waistband, dips her fingers just inside. There’s the taut muscle of his abdomen, the fierce heat of bare skin and the trail of hair leading lower.

“Well,” Will begins, his voice turning strained as she draws her hand back with a knowing smile. “I wanted to touch you here.” He trails his hands up the inside of her thighs. “Here, too.” One hand rests on her underwear — pale blue silk, already embarrassingly damp. He swallows hard. “You’re wet.”

Deanna tries not to blush, wondering why she’s so nervous around him. “And what are you going to do about that?” she tells him, trying to sound confident and sultry.

His hand pulls back, and then his thumbs are hooking into her underwear — “Will, someone might see,” is her faint protest — but she isn’t exactly complaining. He leaves them around her knees and manouevers himself so he’s resting comfortably against her side, a hand on her belly.

“Just in case someone comes by, you know,” he says nonchalantly, but his eyes are dark when he looks down at her. She can sense the need in his mind.

Will’s breathing hot against her neck, his palm making slow circles on her belly. It slides lower. Lower, and she twitches against him. Then two of his fingers are gliding through the soft curls between her thighs, spreading her open swiftly enough to make her gasp.

“Mm,” Deanna gasps, half-surprised and half not. Behind them, the muktok are making their strange, tinkling sound, buoyed by the warm winds that surround them.

Will is intent on his task. Very gently, he starts to circle her clit. “What do you like? Is that good?” he asks, and she can feel how desperate he is to please her.

“Oh,” Deanna says. “It is.” She reaches down, moves his hand over a little. “Like this.”

He’s eager for direction, and happens to be a quick study, to boot. Liquid desire unfurls along her spine with every sure, confident movement of Will’s fingers. She grabs for his shoulder and digs in her fingertips, needing a steadying force of some kind.

Frustrated because she can’t spread her thighs as much as she wants to, Deanna shifts his hand away and tugs her underwear down, tossing it on the blanket beside them.

“Well, that’s one way to do it.” Will is laughing, already sliding his hand back between her legs.

“Practical at heart, that’s me” Deanna returns, playful, trying to keep her breathing even. He's touching her right there between her thighs, fascinated by her every reaction, and she’s trying her hardest not to overthink it.

It’s all she’s wanted for weeks, truth be told.

“God, Deanna, you feel so good. You’re so soft,” Will says, his voice rough in a way she’s never heard before. “I’ve thought about this so much.”

It doesn’t embarrass him in the slightest, confessing this. Emboldened by his honesty, she finds herself saying, in between little gasps, “Me, too. Sometimes I touch myself, and I think about you, about this.”

He makes a sound into her neck that’s half a groan, and goes still, the rhythm of his fingers faltering for a moment. She whimpers; she doesn’t want him to stop.

“ _Deanna_ ,” he says, and she wonders how she half wants to come already just from the way Will Riker says her name. “Oh, sorry,” he adds, noticing her obvious frustration. He starts up again and her hips shift into his touch.

“Can you — faster,” she says faintly. Her fingers tighten on his shoulder. It feels incredible: she’s wet, a flush rising on her skin as she gets closer, closer, her want a taut, weakened thread waiting to snap.

“I could almost come right now, you know, just thinking about you touching yourself,” he admits. “What did you think about while you were doing it?” It’s breathed in her ear, and his fingers slow down slightly.

“Um —” Deanna can hardly look at Will, and then she feels his thumb on her clit while two fingers find her entrance.

“You okay with that?” he’s asking.

She nods. “Yes, please, that’s good.”

“Tell me,” he says, coaxing, as he opens her. His fingers are much thicker than hers and the stretch is perfect, enough to make her arch into his hand when his thumb presses hard to her clit.

“I think about you doing this,” she admits, letting go of his shoulder to sweep her unruly hair off her face. It feels hotter than ever, in the heat of the day with Will’s hand between her thighs. “I think about your mouth on my breasts.” She lays a hand over the one touching her, presses down, encouraging him to be rougher, harder. “Your mouth here, as well. I think about you making me come like that, too.”

 _“Dear God,”_ is Will’s faint whisper in her ear, and he’s shifting against her now, the pressure of his thumb on her clit heavy and just right. She’s close, so close.

And then —” Deanna pauses as Will curls his fingers a little inside her, fumbling for the right spot. “Yes, there,” she clarifies for him, her breath catching at the end of the words. “Then I put my fingers inside me, and I imagine it’s you. I imagine…” The words stick in her throat. White-hot pleasure is coursing through her body and she can’t quite say it —

“Mm, what?” Will asks, letting up the pressure just enough to make her huff.

“Hey, I was about to come,” she says crossly, turning her head back to meet his eyes for the first time in about a minute. He has a satisfied smile on his face, but his eyes are hungry on hers, needy in a way that sends a pulse of heat right down to where his fingers are buried inside her.

“I know,” he says, keeping up the torturously slow circles around her clit. “But I still want you to tell me. How about I tell you first, what I imagined?”

“Mm-hm.” Deanna’s nodding.

“I imagined you spread out on my bed, so I could do whatever I want with you. Licking around your breasts, tasting all your sweet skin.” He pauses then, to put his mouth to her neck. “Kissing down your body, tasting you right here,” — his other hand moving on to her thigh, lower, as if to emphasise his point — “until you’re grasping at my hair, moaning for me. Being inside you, fucking you so slowly until you’re nearly screaming.”

Deanna is more than blushing now, from listening to Will’s words; she thinks she must be tinged pink from her hairline to her chest. She’s squirming on his fingers now, panting, her climax approaching. She can feel it in the heaviness in her stomach, the heat spreading up her spine, the way her thighs are starting to shake.

“Harder, please, Will,” Deanna says, trailing off into gasps as Will does just that and presses down firmly with his thumb. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop, please.” She’s clutching at his arm tight enough to strip the colour from his skin.

“I won’t stop,” Will says in a soothing tone, right against her neck. She can feel the heaviness of his breaths, feel the insistent hardness of him, grinding against her hip. “I want to watch you come. Can you do that for me, Deanna? Can you come?”

“Uh,” is all Deanna can get out before it hits. Her eyes squeeze shut — she can’t look at him — and she comes for him like she’s breaking apart, bearing down on Will’s fingers, her inner walls clenching him over and over while her thighs press together, clamping down on his hand. “Oh my God,” she’s saying, “it’s so good, Will, oh my God, oh my God —"

Eventually, her eyes flutter open and she finds Will staring at her in awe, still moving his fingers inside her, slowly. Small jolts of pleasure continue to flicker between her thighs, but she’s had enough for now.

“You can stop,” she tells him, her heartbeat skittering and her breathing rapid from the orgasm.

“That was so fucking hot,” Will says, eyes still fixed on her. His fingers slip from her with a wet sound and then he’s kissing her hungrily, leaning back onto the blanket so he can roll her body towards his. “What was it you were going to say?”

“I think what you said covered it pretty well,” Deanna admits. She’s reaching for him, trying to keep herself grounded.

She’s surprised by how much sense of him this way is sharpening. Without difficulty, she can pick up on how aroused he is, how he’d probably come if she just ground against him a bit.

“Here, let me,” Deanna says, slipping his pants down with one smooth movement, pushing up his shirt to expose the taut muscles of his abdomen.

The breeze has an edge of coolness and Will gasps a little as his cock’s exposed to the air. His groan of relief when her hand wraps around him is one of the best sounds she’s ever heard from him: raw and honest. He’s not even trying to pretend he isn’t desperate for her to touch him.

“What do you like? How do you want it?” Deanna asks, experimentally pressing her thumb to the head, spreading the wet bead she finds there.

“Ah — Deanna,” he says, reaching down to cover her hand with his, “I’m so close already.”

“Tell me,” she encourages.

He shifts her hand down. “Under the head, just like that. Mm. Turn your wrist a bit.” He gasps. “Oh, yeah. Baby, that’s good,” — Deanna has to smother a laugh; it’s not an endearment she’s used to — Can you feel how good that is?”

She kisses his neck and says, “I really can.”

“A little faster,” Will instructs gently, and she does so, feeling him going rigid beneath her palm, sensing the barely-contained arousal in his mind, a mess of tangled, burnished threads already unwinding. He’s so close, he wants her so much, to the point where it’s dizzying and she has to close her mind to the rest of it. “Oh my _God_ , now —”

He pulses in her hand and comes right over his stomach and the blanket, shaking against her, muttering her name desperately: “ _Deanna.”_

“That was incredible,” Will says once he’s gone boneless and slack against her, kissing her softly.

“For me, too.”

“Right. Empath.” He rolls onto his back, breathing heavily. “Whew. I think I could go to sleep right now, after that.”

Deanna grins at him. Delicately, she rubs her hand over the blanket to clean it off, and he lifts her other hand to kiss the back of it. “Grass is better,” he says.

She takes the advice and indeed, it does the job better than the knit blanket. Will tidies himself up as best he can and tucks himself back into his trousers, smooths his shirt down.

“You’re so lucky, you know, if you could feel that from me.”

“It’s not as hard as you think. Maybe I can teach you, if you stick around here for a while,” Deanna says.

She watches his eyes light up. “Really? But I’m human…”

“Some humans can learn,” she tells him, stroking a hand over his forearm. “My father did, from my mother.”

“I’ll try to be a good student, Miss Troi,” he says, and shifts along the blanket so he can snuggle himself into her side. He’s so ridiculously broad and tall compared to most of the men she knows, and Deanna can’t help but press herself even closer.

The lazy, mid-afternoon light casts dappled patterns on their bodies where they lie. The pair of them lie there for a while, squinting into the sunbeams breaking through the tree branches above them.

Then Will packs everything up efficiently. “Er,” he says awkwardly. “The blanket’ll need washing. It’s not a family heirloom or anything, right?”

In the midst of sweeping her unkempt hair up into a bun, Deanna bursts out laughing.

“No, Will. It’s not. I’ll just toss it in the laundry before Mr Homn or my mother spot me.”

Will nods. “Isn’t your mom a really powerful telepath?” he says, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt. “Won’t she know what we just did?” She can tell he’s thinking about the way Lwaxana sized him up the first time he came to the Troi mansion to pick her up for a date. All six foot three of Will practically shrank into the ground in the face of her mother’s formidable presence.

Deanna pats at his hand. “It’s considered impolite to pry such secrets from people’s minds on Betazed. She might know something, but I don’t think she’d dare look deeper. Boundaries are something we’re still working on.”

“As long as she doesn’t think I took advantage of you.” Some of his hair has adorably flopped over his forehead. She reaches up to smooth it back and Will takes the opportunity to kiss her again, his mouth warm and pliant in that already-kissed way.

“Did you?” she breathes when they break apart, Will’s hands still locked around her waist.

“Well,” he says, and presses his lips to her forehead. “I kind of feel like you might have taken of advantage of me just as much, Miss Troi.”

Deanna laughs, feeling impossibly light. She could be somewhere up in those stars above where Will is determined to make his life.

Her home isn’t far away, but it takes them a while to get there, on account of interrupting each other with kisses every few steps.

“Are you free Friday?” he asks after a quick kiss at the door.

She makes a face. “Sorry. Made plans with Chandra. Saturday?”

Will makes a noise of frustration. “Damn it, I can’t. I’m running security drills. Sunday?”

She beams at him. “Perfect.”

He doesn’t look back as he briskly follows the path to the gate, but she can tell he's thinking about her anyway. Deanna touches her fingers to her tingling lips, knots in her stomach already when she thinks about next time she’ll see him.


End file.
